January 24
by Iorhael
Summary: While celebrating Jess's birthday, Sam's mind wanders to another who has the same birthdate as her.
1. Chapter 1

"You really shouldn't have done this, Sam," said Jess softly, her words betraying her own blissful sigh. "I mean, all those hours you worked at the fast food restaurant, that's supposed to be for books, right, Sam? Sam?"

Across the table and over a single flickering candle—yeah, a candlelight dinner for two at a fancy restaurant he barely could afford, Sam gazed at something far, farther away than the lovely girl clad in her black sack dress. He sincerely wanted to do this. Jess was the first girl he had ever fallen for. She deserved everything he had.

But,

_January, 24_

This was the first time he was away from Dean on his brother's birthday, not that they usually did something special on that day, though. Still, Sam was usually _there_. And now that he wasn't, he couldn't help but wonder if their dad had decided to do something out of ordinary…

* * *

"_Dean, get out of the way!" John shouted as the shadow behind Dean was no longer a shadow. Then suddenly a huge paw with long fingers and nails shot out. "DEAN!"_

_The twenty-three year old leaped forward, but it was too late. The paw slashed swiftly down his back, leaving long and deep slits across it, and angry red blood began to seep through his shirt and leather jacket. Dean gasped, his eyes bulged out, and he went down to his knees, giving a chance, albeit without meaning to, for his dad to gun the creature down._

_John didn't wait to double check if it died already, simply rushing to his son's side but carefully laying him on his lap._

"_Dean, Dean, are you all right?" He sighed heavily at the realization that Dean's eyes were shut tightly without any signs of him being conscious, agony painted across his contorted face. "Dean, talk to me!" John shook and shook his son again when the latter neither replied nor opened his eyes. Slowly easing down on his heels, John slowly realized how his hands trembled. Dean had better wake up soon or else…_

* * *

Sam jolted in his chair, his hands gripping the table forcefully. Jess was sipping her cocktail at that time and she almost jumped out of her skin.

"Sam!" She nearly slammed her glass onto the table. "What's wrong?"

"Uh." Sam sat back, massaging his knitted brow, grimacing. "No—nothing." _What was that?_ He flinched a little when Jess's downy fingers reached his hand.

"Sam?" Jess frowned.

The young Winchester forced a smile. "I'm all right, Jess. Don't worry about me. Come on, enjoy your meal." But his agitated shifting in his chair betrayed his own words.

_What the heck am I doing here? I'm not supposed to be here. Dean's been hurt, I know he has. I should have been there with him. He needs me._

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**January 24**

**Chapter 2**

John lifted Dean carefully in his arms, the boy curling up, pressing his head against John's chest. Soft whimpers came out of Dean's mouth though he was still unconscious, making John's heart clench painfully.

"Ssh, I got you. You'll be alright." John balanced his duffel bag on his shoulder and joggled Dean as gently as he could, but the moan his son gave off made him cringe.

"Oh, sorry, but I've got to get you out of here now," he murmured to deaf ears. "We'll get you to the hospital in no time soon, you hear me? We'll patch you up. You'll be as good as new."

Soon John did not know what else to say. Hardening his jaw, he slowly moved through the trees and shrubs. Thank God he left the Impala not far from the park.

* * *

A waitress came bringing a petite round of chocolate cake with a lit candle on it. Jessica's eyes glimmered and the girl cheered softly. 

"Oh, Sam." The lightened eyes shifted to his boyfriend. "This is _very_ beautiful." She reached out, squeezing Sam's hand. "Thank you," she mouthed, smiling tenderly.

Sam smiled back, but the smile did not reach his eyes. He genuinely felt happy for Jessica but the rumbles in his stomach kept reminding him of the vision of Dean. Sam nodded to his girl, asking her wordlessly to blow the candle, yet at the same time he shifted in his chair, feeling restless, wanting to do something, to get away and maybe – maybe call his brother to check if there was anything wrong.

But he had not called him for almost a year now, and he would learn the true meaning of the word _awkward_ should Dean prove to be all right.

To make things worse, Sam looked dead to the world by staring blankly there when Jessica finished making a wish and putting off the candle in one smooth whoosh. There was no applaud, cheer, or even a small smile coming from Sam. The girl frowned. She might as well be facing a wall right now.

"Sam?' Jessica kept reminding herself to count to ten, or perhaps a hundred, before she burst. "Sam!" All right. She almost slapped Sam. But that was just not her.

Instead of jerking awake, Sam simply blinked there, and mumbled to himself, and Jessica still had the feeling that Sam was barely aware of what she had just done.

"Have to make a phone call," Sam muttered as he stood from the chair.

Jessica was left frozen at the table. It had better not be another girl. But somehow, Jess knew that was not the case.

Sam slipped into the restroom and took his cell from his pants' pocket. He searched for the name _Dean_ and pressed the picture of a tiny green telephone.

One ring, two ring, three ring

Four, five

And… _Hi, this is Dean Winchester…_

Sam jabbed the gadget away from his ear, staring in disbelief to the cell monitor. Ah, perhaps Dean just did not hear it ring. Sam gave it another try.

But the same thing happened.

Pressing to cancel the call, Sam felt all the air leave his lungs completely. He staggered back and crashed into the closed restroom door, sliding down to sit curled on the floor. Thousands of alarming images of Dean being hurt—or worse—flashed through his mind. _No, no, no_. Sam almost crushed the cell phone in his big hand; couldn't stop a sob from shaking his entire body.

* * *

Six, ten times, an excerpt of Dean's favorite AC/DC song jarred the stillness of the night in the park. The cell monitor blinked in dazzling light through the dense shrub as the mobile rang and rang. But no one was there to notice, let alone pick it up. Not even the dead creature John had mowed down previously.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**January 24**

**Chapter 3**

The hall had been more than quiet though it was not too late at night yet. But then the restless silence was jarred by an annoying noise that was his ring tone. John threw a glance at the open door to the room where Dean was resting after an operation that lasted almost an hour. The red gashes running down his back looked so awful the surgeon eyed John with unspoken accusation afterwards. But there was nothing else the older Winchester could say except that Dean had been attacked by a wild dog. And that was that. The doctor could not say that it was John's hands that had been hacking into Dean's flesh, couldn't he?

His phone buzzed again. Oh right. John flicked his cell open and frowned at the caller's ID.

_Sam?_

* * *

It was not such a small treat, coaxing himself to call up his dad. He must have gone insane trying to do that. After what his old man told him before he left for Stanford? But Sam needed to know about Dean. To make sure that his older brother was all right. Because—he hated to think about this but—he wasn't sure his father would contact him although Dean was injured. He'd been ignoring them for too long his dad might not want to accept yet another disrespect coming from his youngest son.

But what if Dean could not make it? Would his dad still keep Sam in the dark? Sam could not believe he would. Besides, that was not what he was seeing. And the most important thing, he could also still feel Dean's vibe. All he had to find out now was that how much Dean had been hurt, and whether he would subsist.

* * *

"Dad?"

"Sam, is that you?" Incredulity was in his father's voice. Sam could not blame him for that. He had no time to think about it, though. The problem now was: what would he say?

Sam couldn't tell him about his vision, for sure. He had never told anyone about it and his father might be the last person that was supposed to know.

"Sam, it's really you, isn't it?"

Sam grunted his reply, scrunching his brow, and grappled his cell with both his hands. He was still curling up on the floor in the corner of the restroom.

"Yeah, uh, Dad?"

"Where are you, son? Are you okay? What's happened to you?"

"I'm… I'm okay, dad." Sam was more or less taken aback by the concern in his dad's voice. He still thought the older man was as mad at him as he was at the night when he left. "I-is Dean there?" Sam wouldn't tell him how he had tried and tried contacting his brother's mobile and failed.

This time it was his father who faltered.

"Uh, well. Dean is… out. Ah, yes. He's out for a moment. What's up, Sam?"

So… Dean was out. Sam was digesting this piece of information and asking himself if he could trust his dad on this. After all, Sam had been the one making the call. He deserved the truth if nothing else.

"Oh, ah, nothing, Dad. Nothing. I just…"

"Yes, Sam?"

"I just – want to wish him happy birthday."

There. Not an outright lie, yet not the complete truth either coming from him. But Sam could not come up with a better excuse. And not half a second later he hung up.

* * *

_Happy Birthday_

What date was it today? January… 24?

John threw his head back, not even feeling it when it slammed into the wall behind him. He had this sudden urge to hurl his cell phone to the door, the ceiling, the milky white light above him.

Today was Dean's birthday, and did he remember that? _No_. Instead, he brought the boy to one of the most dangerous hunts they had ever had and almost got him killed. What kind of a father was he?

John buried his face in his hands, sniffling before realizing that he was crying. He rubbed his eyes with a hand, and turned his gaze toward Dean's room. He wasn't even beside his unconscious son. What was wrong with him? Was it guilt that hindered him from doing it?

Suddenly John's phone rang again. He knew it was Sam again even before picking it up.

"Dad."

So John was right.

"In what hospital are you?"


	4. Chapter 4

**January 24**

**Chapter 4**

There was a tentative knock at the door and Sam straightened up. His eyes blurred gazing up from his position still on the floor as it finally cracked open.

"Excuse me…" A hesitant voice followed, understandably, as this was a gentleman's room and the voice belonged to a girl.

"Jess!" Sam gasped. "What's wrong?"

The door widened, matching the girl's eyes as she took in Sam's disheveled form behind the door. Jess let go of the door to rush to her boyfriend.

"Sam! Are you all right?" Her face was contorted with deep worry. Sam clambered to his feet, slipping his cell phone into his trousers' pocket immediately.

"Yeah, Jess." He took the girl's arm, steering her to the door. "Let's get out of here."

But Jessica Moore was not one to be taken too lightly, especially when Sam showed no sign to say anything anymore. She waved her arm off Sam's hand and turned to look sharply at the man.

"No, Sam, tell me what you've been doing in here. Tell me you're all right, then we get out of here."

"Ssh. Not here, okay?" Sam's eyes scrunched shut for a moment. He really didn't need this. Dean was hurt badly out there, and as much as Sam loved Jess, she would never take the place of his big brother in his heart. Though for her sake, Sam felt deeply sorry.

* * *

Yawning, Sam threw a glance around the bus before resuming his long, lost gaze through the window. He had not been sleeping all night, hence the bags under his eyes, his clouded mind, and another yawn yet again. After convincing Jess that he was okay (although _convinced_ was barely how the girl had looked last night) and that he did need to see his brother right away (yeah, right. How would Jess be convinced that this was more important than the both of them being together after the ruined birthday dinner, while not once did he ever talk about his family?), Sam managed to get the earliest bus to San Jose—Dean was treated at a Samaritan Hospital there. The city was not too far from Palo Alto, two hours, three hours top. That was the best Sam could get. He sighed slowly. Perhaps he could use some sleep after all.

* * *

"What are you doing here, Sammy?" Dean slapped his shoulder playfully, wide grin adorning his freckled bright face.

Sam frowned, tilting his head slightly to one side like he always did when being confused, and looked around. He was in…

"I thought you were in Stanford," said Dean again. "Hey, you decided to come back, huh?" The beaming feature of his brother definitely showed what it meant to be: joy at the sight of the little brother. But wasn't Dean supposed to be lying unconscious in a hospital bed?

"But, uh, Sam. You must know how I'd love to spend some time with you now that you're back, but Dad, you know, he's waiting for me out there," Dean started again when he saw Sam was not going to say anything. "This gig will be nothing, Sam. We'll be back already before midnight, I promise you." And his older brother stepped out of the door, turning around to catch Sam for the last time before he went, and waved and smiled again.

"See you, Sam!" Dean called out.

* * *

Sam jolted awake with a start, and found that he was still on a moving bus. No motel room. No Dean. That was a dream, wasn't it? Not some kind of a vision that might have meant that Dean was going out – _away_ – from his life?

Suddenly a cold feeling ran through his body, and Sam shuddered.

Of course not, he tried to assure himself. And what did Dean say again? _See you, Sam_. That was it. It couldn't be a goodbye. It was a promise.

Making sure never hurt, though.

Struggling to calm his shaking nerve, Sam reached out for his cell and pressed a speed dial. Dad.

It rang once at the other end. And twice. A creepy, déjà vu feeling crept into Sam's gut.

Could this bus run faster?


	5. Chapter 5

**January 24**

**Chapter 5**

He couldn't believe it. His son was fading right before his eyes and he had not realized it earlier. John blamed himself for having waited outside Dean's room this whole time, thinking that everything had been fine, that Dean had simply been asleep after the surgery while the effect of the anesthesia was wearing off. John had only begun to see when he decided to sit by the bed and watching the monitor he realized that Dean's blood pressure and heart pulse kept dropping in alarming constancy. Dean was slowly dying and he hadn't known it.

But the even worse thing came later. Doctors could not find what was wrong with Dean. He had no fever; there was no sign of infection inside or outside his body. He had not lost any more blood; the stitches on his back were neat and clean. The look in those doctors' faces told how confused they were, and they decided to give a thorough check over Dean. They took his blood to be tested though they could not assure John they would find anything in it.

Those white-suited men were right. They didn't find anything abnormal in the blood. Pity surged as they told John there was nothing they could do anymore and saw how the man, clearly shaking, sat himself on the edge of the bed and hesitantly touched his son's face.

John didn't even hear it when the last doctor closed the door soundlessly behind him.

_Sam_, John thought suddenly. The boy had all the right to know that his big brother was leaving him.

Fishing down into his pocket, he found one missed call from the youngest son.

"Sam?" John whispered to the receiver when his call was picked up after the first ringing.

xxx

Sam thought his heart might burst at John's call. He was not ready. He simply wasn't ready if his dad delivered the bad news confirming his vision, no, _nightmare_, just now. Dean could not have come to say goodbye to him. Dean could not have _gone_.

"_Sam?"_

"Dad?" he croaked, unable to say anything else.

"Sam, your brother might… might not be able to make it. You might not see him again."

Sam couldn't bring himself to explode at his father for not telling him earlier that something awful had befallen the person he loved most. All he could do was curl up in his seat and tremble.

"Tell – tell him to wait for me." Sam wasn't aware of tears streaming down his cheeks. "Dad, make the doctors do whatever they can to cure him." He could not sound more like a little boy.

"Sam, listen. The doctors can't find anything. Dean—he looks as if he's sleeping. He's not in pain, not even a frown in his face, thanks to all those painkillers. Though perhaps, whatever is eating his life seems to have won."

"That's not Dean," Sam shot out at once. "He'd fight. He always fights."

For some time there was no reply from his dad, and Sam couldn't think of anything amidst his grief.

"Dad," he said quietly after some moments. "Can't you try to find out what's happening to him?" Sam knew John really didn't need him challenging his own father as always, but the boy guessed the older man's mind might have been too obscured by fear and panic of losing his oldest that he could no longer think sharp.

"Dad?" Sam called again when he only heard his father's breath.

"Sam, I was thinking," his father choked out. "Are you coming, son?"

"In two hours, Dad."

"Better get here sooner. I need you to help stop Dean from kicking the bucket."

Sam's ears perked up at the different tone in his father's voice. Apparently he might have discovered what was wrong, or better yet, how to solve it.


	6. Chapter 6

**January 24**

**Chapter 6**

"Yeah, I get it, Bobby." John sounded grave and tired but he was a bit relieved after talking with his old friend. So apparently some parts of the creature, some dirt or splinter of its nails, got stuck in Dean's body and continued to do damage to the boy. Bobby suspected that those remains had got into Dean's blood or embedded in his bones. That was why the doctors had failed to detect them while those people were patching Dean up.

"But what if holy water doesn't work, Bob?" asked John into his cell. "Brewed herbs?" he said after some time. "What kind of herbs?" John stilled as he listened and finally nodded.

"Get him to your place, you got it." John knew he would do anything for his sons even if it meant going against doctors' words, especially when there was not much they could do.

* * *

It was past midnight when Sam finally saw the Samaritan Hospital sign. He had to change buses two times after entering San Jose and half running now, Sam shoved open the glass doors into the lobby. He almost could not get through to Dean's room, though, thanks to a security guard. But a nurse then informed the guard that the young man's brother was in a critical condition. Sam had cringed at the information before thanking the nurse and with eyes watering he dashed to the patient wing she pointed at.

Sam was breathless and his chest felt like it would burst anytime as he was standing before a closed door. He knew Dean was behind it though he didn't ask the nurse or his father for the room number. The youngest Winchester closed his eyes as a wave of emotion washed over him. He couldn't hear anything from the other side of the wall but there was a tug at his heart. Sam swayed and clutched the doorframe for support. He was suddenly brought to different dimensions—time and space.

Sam found himself no longer at the hospital and he was much younger, only three or four years old. He was skipping along by Dean's side who had been trying to steady his two-wheeled bike. It was his first try riding it by himself after his dad taught him for several days.

"Come on, Deeean, let me up," Sam whined, reaching up to the handle and grasping it with his stubby fingers. He shook it a little resulting in an alarmed Dean.

"Hey, hey! Sammy, let go of the bike."

"Why?" The toddler watched his big brother with his huge eyes.

"I might fall down!" The bike kept wiggling with Sam's hand still tightening on it although Dean had slowed down.

The older kid's brow knitted when Sam's cheerful giggle filled the air like the chirping of a bird.

"Am holdin' on ta ya bike, Dean, you won't fall."

* * *

In his own way, little Sam had reassured Dean that he would keep him from harm. And in the here and now, Sam understood that while unconscious, Dean had sought him out. His brother was scared. God. Dean had never been that scared in his life. He had always been the one to protect Sam and not the other way around.

Sam took the doorknob and squeezed it hard before turning it open.

"I've got you, Dean," he whispered to himself. "I won't let you fall this time because I'm holding you tight."

To his dad's face that was a mixture of surprise and profound relief that met his then, Sam offered a weak smile before blood drained from his face. Behind his father, on the bed, Dean was sleeping peacefully. _Too_ peacefully to Sam's liking.

"No." A plea escaped his lips. He knew this really happened. His damned visions had made him see; he had talked to his dad. Still Sam was not ready to face the fact. He was _enjoying himself_, for goodness' sake, when this all happened.

What was worse was that he had left Dean to face this all alone, to be a good son and go wherever their father dragged him to. To sacrifice his life, his chance of living a more _normal_ life just so his little brother could have all that.

Sam felt lightheaded. He didn't deserve his brother.


	7. Chapter 7

**January 24**

**Chapter 7**

The following events passed by in a blur to Sam. He heard his father talk about his telephone conversation with Bobby. Sam was shocked as his mind gathered information that Dean was indeed dying, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything – perhaps shock was the key word here. His ears took in things they could do to help Dean, things his dad was telling him, and even though there were qualms as to whether or not those would work, Sam couldn't make himself say anything, either. He took a canteen of holy water from his fatherr and floated to Dean's bedside in an autopilot mode. He scanned his brother's face, his _guardian angel_'s face, and realized one thing: Dean had truly become an angel with his features turning translucent, lids fluttering upon his eyes, bluish lips slightly ajar as if they froze in the midst of chanting a prayer. Come to think of it, Sam corrected his own thought, Dean didn't look like an angel. _A saint_. He looked like a saint. Hell, perhaps he _was_ a saint.

Sam was still quietly doing what his father asked him to do. He bent over toward his brother, careful as not to disrupt the IV and other wires attached to Dean's body, lifted Dean by his shoulders, and carefully tipped the holy water into his mouth. Sam jumped and felt himself throw a panicked gaze at his father when Dean reacted violently as the water coursed through him, seeing the oldest Winchester grasp Dean's legs to avoid further uproar and to enable Sam to give Dean another dose.

Sam heard his father coax him not to be afraid and tell him that the splinters the creature left behind would soon vanish from Dean's system, and that they would see it happen when Dean no longer thrashed about. Sam heard his dad say that was exactly why they both needed him here, and when he mutely asked him to elaborate, his father simply nodded in Dean's direction. Sam stared in horror as he caught sight of trickles of blood seeped from Dean's nose. But that was not the reason why his dad had nodded earlier. Sam thought he heard something and as he listened carefully, he came to realize that Dean was whispering.

"_Don't get too worked up over this, Sammy."_

And something more.

"_I'm fine. You're happy, that's what matters."_

Everything was a blur, but more than that, this time it was some stupid, uninvited tears making it even more blurred. Sam felt his hands shaking. More sips, he told himself. And when Dean was not fighting him anymore, Sam abandoned the canteen, letting it slide down Dean's blanket, and he broke down. Sam crumpled on to Dean's body, wrapped him with his own, and sobbed uncontrollably.

The machine showed that Dean's heart pulse and blood pressure were rising steadily but Sam didn't need it to tell him that his guardian angel and saint was going to be alive.


	8. Chapter 8

**January 24**

**Chapter 8**

Sometime around dawn Dean's eyes cracked open. John jerked – not awake for he had been awake all night – but from his chair. He drew his legs from his son's bed and leaned forward.

"How you feeling, sport?"

Dean answered him with a blink, trying to focus some seconds later and making as if he was about to sit up.

"Hey, hey. Easy, kid. Don't move just yet. You might tear open the stitches."

Simply his nature, the younger hunter seemed to want to defy John, but eventually the boy complied. Dean wetted his lips and cleared his throat.

"Sam?"

His voice was so parched that John immediately fetched a glass of water from the side table—the act effectively distracting him from wondering how Dean was to know Sam had been with him. His son welcomed the cold reprieve as he sipped from the straw, but he repeated his question afterward.

Sam's never far from your mind, is he, thought John. He had sent his youngest kid to the motel where he and Dean were staying to catch some rest because he never thought Dean would have known that his brother was here anyway. It had not been easy either to persuade Sam to leave, but John promised he would call the boy the moment Dean was awake.

"He'll be here soon, Dean. Now you get more rest, okay? Your body is still healing."

* * *

Dean had been dreaming. He had back in the park, in the middle of the night, and his cry had torn into the night as someone or something slashed his back. Then all of a sudden his cell phone rang and in such an inexplicable way, he managed to answer it.

It was Sam. And Sam knew what happened even before Dean told him. In fact, he was the one who told Dean to get away from the woods in the park. Then Sam dragged him away for he could not walk by himself. However, Dean was in so much pain that he couldn't go on. He gave up when they reached the clearing where he finally blacked out. Yet he knew nothing would attack him for Sam was with him. He was safe.

Strangely though, not once had his dad appeared in his dream.

"I'm gonna call your brother but I believe he's dozing off in the motel now. You want to leave him a message?"

Dean gazed at his father, eyes shining both with bliss and helplessness, emotions pouring out raw and free. He shook his head. No, he couldn't talk to Sam _like that_. Not after what had happened to all of them, Sam leaving and all. He even didn't know if he could talk face to face with his younger brother.

After some time debating with himself, Dean came to a decision that the other option his dad had given him was much better. Rest. Sleep. Giving energy back to his body to face Sam later.

* * *

Sometime around eight Dean's eyes cracked open again, and they were met with the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, at least in the past year. A smile. Sam's teary smile. His brother had always been such a girl.

"Hey," Sam greeted him softly, and Dean, despite anything, suddenly wanted to lash out at him. He always hated this awkward situation, didn't Sam know that?

But Sam shoved a box under his nose and hollered a "Happy Birthday!"

What the--? The box smelled like apple pie, though.

"Sam …?"

"Come on, Dean." His brother opened the lid and Dean found he was right. It was apple pie, one healthy round of apple pie. He hated apple pie and the kind of life it represented. But this time…

"I couldn't get anything else. This is the only thing the diner has first thing in the morning," Sam rambled on. "I hope you like it, though. They said it was good."

Dean took a glimpse at his dad who stood there, not upset but bright with smiles. Everybody was smiling. God, kill him now.

"I'm sorry I'm late for your birthday, Dean." Sam sobered up, speaking gently. "But I'm glad I wasn't late to – to save you…"

"Sam." Dean's voice cut him in a full warning. "What did I say about chick flick moments?"

His younger brother smiled sheepishly and thrust another thing toward Dean. A small sharp knife.

"Cut the pie," he cheered. "The birthday boy must be the one to do that."

fin

AN: I want to say thanks to everyone who reads, everyone who comments, everyone who puts this in their alert, everyone who makes this as their favorite, and someone who includes this in a C2 community. I'm so happy and I feel honored. I didn't mean this to be a series yet you all have persuaded me. Thank you so much.


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